


i’m stronger than all my men (except for you)

by vanillaskin



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Apologies, Arguing, Blow Jobs, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic, Driving, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Face-Fucking, Kissing, M/M, Making Love, Making Up, Mildly Dubious Consent, Phone Calls & Telephones, Praise Kink, Reading, Suicidal Thoughts, for some reason, libertarian has a weird book fetish, like extremely mild, only a little bit, this fic has a rlly gloomy vibe to it ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillaskin/pseuds/vanillaskin
Summary: Libertarian believed that Ancap may never know how lucky he truly is. He was born to rich parents in a rich home in the golden age of American capitalism and has never been forced to endure too much empathy and sorrow throughout his life. Libertarian thought that was much too privileged. Ancap didn’t know what it was like, what it was like to be poor or to be evicted and thrown into the streets. He’s always been taken care of, babied— not once in his life was he ever uncared for. Forgotten. It was only natural for him, though, to act the way he did. It wasn’t as if Libertarian was complaining; he himself babies and takes care of Ancap very well.The sight of true innocence is beautiful. He hoped that he would never be forced to see that fade away in the anarchist.
Relationships: Libertarian/Ancap
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	i’m stronger than all my men (except for you)

**Author's Note:**

> i know most of my fics include ancap as a main but i cannot help it he is literally adorable 
> 
> this is based on “pretty when you cry so................ the song is based

“It’s growing back.”

It was a cold autumn morning on the 22nd of October, and Libertraian and Ancap sat close to one another on their fern colored couch, huddling close together to share body warmth. Their heater had broken the day before, and Ancap was reluctant to call a repairman just yet simply because he didn’t have the energy to do so.

Election stress disorder is a bitch. Ancap was hit with it hard in the last few weeks, and had been acting off since. Libertarian doesn’t understand this; he often wondered why Ancap’s spirits seemed to be down, and why he was so easily aggravated by the smallest action, such as Libertarian forgetting to wash the dishes. He ended up asking Anfem for advice on the subject, but she wasn’t much help; mostly because he joked about Ancap being on his ‘man period.’ She slapped him. 

Ancap’s psyche only seemed to become more hostile as time went on and there was nothing Libertarian could do to stop it. They hadn’t had sex in weeks, and Libertarian figured that was his fault since he joked around with Ancap about how he voted Jo Jorgensen. Ancap scowled at him with a look in his eye that Libertarian had never seen before.

The anarchist’s aura was considerably weak. This was quite unusual for the capitalist; he normally had a gleaming aura that lit up the space around him, and at its height, the light can even sometimes reach across the room; though that only either happens during intense arguments or during intercourse. Now, it was barely even present— Libertarian was sure that if he threw a blanket on top of Ancap while he was standing, you wouldn’t even be able to tell that he’s an ideology.

The apartment felt dark, dull, and lifeless. There was hardly any sunlight reaching them as they sat there, motionless as they watched older episodes _Regular Show_ on VHS. They had been watching old VHS tapes that Libertarian owned the night before, which included _American Beauty,_ Libertarian’s favorite episodes of _Rick and Morty,_ and _American Psycho._ They had put on the _Regular Show_ tape half past three, and they fell asleep shortly after. It was still playing once they woke up in a weirdly precarious position, and they both knew that the tape was most likely going to cut within the next few minutes. Ancap dreaded this— he didn’t feel like getting up today, and he knew that Libertarian was going to force him up the moment Mordecai and Rigby’s voices fade to nothing. He grumbled.

“What is?” Libertarian asked softly, turning his head to face the anarchist that snuggled up against him. Ancap looked dead— his skin was pale and nearly purple, and the dark circles under his eyes were growing apparent. Libertarian wasn’t sure when the last time Ancap ate was.

“Your mustache. You need to shave.” Ancap mumbled it as he lifted a finger to toy with the ever growing pencil mustache on Libertarian’s face, that if not shaven, would quickly turn into an imperial. 

“I don’t want to shave it.” Libertarian smirked. Ancap frowned.

“I’m not forcing you to, I’m just highly suggesting it.” Ancap moved his finger away as he looked up at the moderate. 

“I think I should grow it out. I mean, how would it feel for lil’ ol Ancap to be dominated by a guy who looks like he’s straight out of the wild west? Eh?” Libertarian teased him, nudging his shoulders a bit to try and get a reaction out of the anarchist. He failed.

“I’m not into roleplay, Lib.” Ancap mumbled it as he sighed, looking back at the television as he rested his head on Libertarian’s shoulder.

“Neither am I. But come on, how long have we not had sex for? Three weeks? You’re killing me here, Ancap.” Libertarian chuckled, raising a hand to stroke Ancap’s head as if he was a lizard. It was weird how much Ancap resembled the facial features of a baby mangrove snake. It was kind of cute, actually.

“I’m not in the mood.” Ancap said it flatly and coldly, stinging Libertarian’s heart like a wasp.

“That’s alright, not trying to force you into anything. I’m just concerned.” 

“Why? Concerned that you can’t get your dick wet?”

“No, of course not, I… I’m just concerned because you seem so sad.

Ancap didn’t respond.

  
  
  
  


Later that day, at around 9:43 AM, Libertarian crashed his car. He was on the receiving end of a rear-end collision, and despite his car being totaled from behind he only suffered from whiplash at most— ideologies’ bodies always seemed to be much more resilient than humans. Luckily, he was refrained from slamming his head onto the steering wheel by the airbag; even though it felt as if he got punched in the face.

The woman who hit him was a stressed single mother. She looked much more beat up than he did— a black eye, a bleeding nose and a possible concussion. She had yelled at him for going to slow before she could get a proper look at him, but once she did, her face had softened similar to bread dough.

He figured that it was because he was an ideology. He felt pity for her, pity that she was scared of the judgement of an ideology. He was grateful, though, that she didn’t become much more harsh— some civilians have an unjust _hatred_ for ideologies that didn’t reflect their political agenda.

Neither of them decided that they were to owe one another any money, and Libertarian wouldn’t have let her off this easy if he didn’t notice the crying child in the backseat of her worn, tattered car.

He knew well that Ancap wasn’t going to be very cheery knowing what Libertarian had done. He believed that people should be compensated for any wrong done to them, but Libertarian felt as if morals came before that at some points.

Libertarian believed that Ancap may never know how lucky he truly is. He was born to rich parents in a rich home in the golden age of American capitalism and has never been forced to endure too much empathy and sorrow throughout his life. Libertarian thought that was much too privileged. Ancap didn’t know what it was like, what it was like to be poor or to be evicted and thrown into the streets. He’s always been taken care of, babied— not once in his life was he ever uncared for. Forgotten. It was only natural for him, though, to act the way he did. It wasn’t as if Libertarian was complaining; he himself babies and takes care of Ancap very well. 

The sight of true innocence is beautiful. He hoped that he would never be forced to see that fade away in the anarchist.

The sound of Ancap’s broken, scared voice on the phone when Libertarian informed him of what had happened might have been the worst part of it all. ‘Is it totaled? Are you okay? Are you _sure_ you’re okay? Is anybody hurt? Will the insurance cover it?’ He hated hearing Ancap like this, and he couldn’t imagine how Ancap felt to hear about something so agonizing at one of his ‘comfort places’— which is his work. The other one was in Libertarian’s arms.

His boss wasn’t happy to receive a phone call from Libertarian, either— Libertarian was known for being a bit of a slacker at work and he has taken much too many days off, and to hear that Libertarian couldn’t come into work today _again_ only added fuel into the fire. He was almost sure that at one point or another in the next few weeks he was most likely going to be fired.

Ancap felt it, felt the emotional tension rising up in his core as he sat on the thought of Libertarian being forced to scrap his car. He was preparing financial records and chatting with his work spouse, April, when he received the melancholic call from Libertarian. Ancap ended up quietly sobbing the rest of his shift, with April attempting to console the ideology to avoid drawing any attention. 

He felt like a failure of a man. He felt as if the weight of the world was collapsing upon him, not knowing how to feel as his debts fell upon one another, seasonal depression was hitting, and election stress disorder hitting him like a truck— it was all so much. Too much. Having to deal with the costly expenses of buying Libertarian a new car and possibly dealing with someone else’s was _terrifying_ to the anarchist; he felt as if life was starting to lose its meaning.

For the rest of that miserable, haunting day, he thought solemnly:

What’s the point of living if you’re not having any fun?

The rest of that day was tiresome and the air was full of melancholia. Ancap didn’t eat that night, and nor did Libertarian. They spent the night cold and sexless, sleeping with their backs facing one another as Ancap shivered throughout his slumber. Libertarian always seemed to take more of the blanket when they slept like this.

That night, he dreamed horrible dreams, dreams about death and sadness and the feeling of being alone in the world. Ancap’s life was lonely, really, like any other ideology’s would be— the thought that you can’t become too close to any civilian in the thoughts that you would majorly outlive them was terrifying; the thought that they weren’t even considered _human beings_ but rather a closely related _species_ was horrifying to the capitalist. 

He just wanted to be normal. 

He wanted to be taken out of this sadness, lifted away and out of this horrible, condemning world where he didn’t know whether the people staring at him as he walked down the street were looking in awe of disgust. He wanted to be free of his debts, free of melancholia, free of the thought of that maybe life won’t get better.

He knows that won’t happen, though. He would never do anything to hurt himself nor Libertarian.

  
  
  
  


“Whatcha’ listening to?” 

April was his work spouse— they talked non-stop during his shift, mostly gossiping about other co-workers and talking about one another's personal lives. She was a very humorous woman that often gave Ancap relentlessly good advice, as Ancap considered her a good friend. They never spent time with one another outside of work, though; mostly because April never asked. She knew how ideologies were with civilians, so she didn’t attempt to push any forced outside of work relationship on the capitalist. Ancap knew this, and was silently grateful that April was one of the few civilians that knew how to respect an ideology’s boundaries. 

She was a pale woman of Korean and German descent. and had a relatively slender frame with dark hair that reached her shoulders. Her life wasn’t interesting, either— she had a few on and off boyfriends, and did babysitting on the side; ( _she always seemed to be fired from the babysitting jobs she had— mostly because she would confess her relationship and drug problems to nine year olds,_ ) nothing in her life really seemed to work out.

Ancap related to her in this way; in fact, it was one of the only things he could relate to her on. They had very different outlooks on the world, as April was a 26 year old millennial who couldn’t stop talking about astrology and _Harry Potter_ , while Ancap was apart of the baby boomer generation. Despite that, April always seemed to say that he wasn’t like ‘the rest of them.’ He wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Lana Del Rey.” He said it as she reached over from her side of the desk, taking out a bud and putting it into her own ear. Normally, Ancap would lurch at the idea of possibly exchanging earwax, but he allowed her to do so just this singular time. As she awkwardly placed the earbud in her ear, she heard the lyrics ‘ _All the pretty stars shine for you, my love / Am I the girl that you dream of?’_ before quickly giving Ancap back his earpiece.

“Jesus, why are you always listening to sad people's music? No wonder why you’ve been so down for the past like, week.” April muttered, sitting back down in her seat as she was once leaning over the desk. She was wearing a white blouse and a pencil skirt, which made Ancap almost _sure_ that she wore the same articles of clothing every single day to work. Did she have multiple of the same outfit, or did she just wash it everyday? She never smelt bad, so it must be one or the other… oh Lord, why does he even care? 

“Oh, I don’t know.” Ancap scoffed. “What are you listening to, then?” Just as he said this, April flicked him her wireless earpiece. It nearly fell to the floor— but Ancap’s reflexes were too quick for that to happen.

‘ _Look / Have mercy on me, have mercy on my soul / Don’t let my heart turn cold / Have mercy on me—‘_ It was modern-day hip-hop/rap music, which Ancap didn’t enjoy that well. He preferred more old-school rap from when he was much younger, from his 30s and 40s. 

“It’s okay.. I prefer Tupac.” He said it as he handed it back to her. April rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“Yeah, cause you’re like, an old-ass man.” She mumbled, nearly groaning at Ancap’s sentiment.

“I’m not that old, at least for ideologies. You’re just young, you probably weren’t even alive when Tupac died.” Ancap teased.

“Oh, don’t say that. I was 6 when he died.”

“Yeah, you weren’t even born. And hey, 6 isn’t too late for an abortion.” The joke was morbid. April flinched.

“Oh, fuck off. But for real though, are you like, good? You’re getting really pale and you’re not acting like yourself.” She asked it as she opened a work binder with concern rising on her tongue. Just as she said this, Ancap breathed out sharply through his nose as he finally decided to log into his computer.

“I’m fine. It’s just.. uh, seasonal depression.” April frowned at Ancap’s answer.

“Can I ask you what your big three are?”

“What’s that?” His eyes show back up to meet April’s.

“Your sun sign, moon, and rising.” _Oh my god._

“You know I don’t believe in that-“ He was cut off.

“Just tell me!” April sounded impatient as her eyes went wide for just a second. Ancap relented.

“Sun in Cancer, Moon in Sagittarius, and Rising in Gemini.” He sighed it out, knowing full well that April was about to go on one of her long tangents.

“Since your sun is in Cancer, which is a water sign, so you’re affected by Mercury retrograde in Scorpio at the moment. It should pass by mid-December, though.” Ancap hated how he believed her. It sounded weirdly believable, it was either that or Ancap found solace in the idea of astrology because it reminded him how Commie was so obsessed with it, which reminded him of home— New York. Retreating into niche ideas which are most likely false to escape reality and to find purpose was oddly comforting to Ancap— and was the only reason he fed into the conversation just a second later.

“Libertarian’s a Scorpio.” 

“Which explains _perfectly_ why the relationship is strained at the moment because of the retrograde. But remember, it’s only temporary. My bets are that he’s probably the love of your life. Scorpio and Cancer couples work out very well. “ She gave him an encouraging smile, which made Ancap feel slightly warmer. April was a very good friend to him, he thought.

“I just want it to be over.” He rubbed his right eye with a flat palm as he said it. 

“Yeah, I get that.” 

“I’m so jealous of Hoppean and Minarchist. They’ve been so happy since they moved to San Francisco.”

“What signs are they?”

“Hoppean is an Aries, and Minarchist is a Leo.” 

“Well, one, that explains why they’re a pretty good match, and two, they’re not affected by the retrograde, at least for what I know just by their sun sign.” April explained, making Ancap slightly jealous. Why did the _stars_ determine his happiness? He thought it was unfair— but he assumed they would get their slice of melancholy and misery eventually if not now.

“I’m just… everything’s so bad right now. The car wreck, the election… it’s so fucking stressful, _fuck_ .” Ancap held his head in his hands as he felt a headache about to wash over him. April was just about to speak again, most likely words of empathy or to spout out some ‘ _everything is temporary’_ bullshit, but she wasn’t able to do so as Ancap’s phone rang rather loudly, echoing through the office.

“ _Shit—_ “ Ancap slurred it under his breath as he quickly turned it over to see Libertarian’s name plastered onto the lit screen. _Oh good god, what now?_

Ancap scrambled out of his seat as he answered it, quickly bringing the phone to his right ear as he headed over to the break room. He saw his boss glare at him as he heard Libertarian clear his breath, and Ancap cringed as he made his way across the desk-filled room.

“What’s going on, Libertarian? You know I’m at work.” He said it harshly under his breath as he pushed the break room door open, and a sudden breeze of cold air hit him in the face. Why the fuck would somebody open the window in the break room? _Flies_ could get in, there is food in here _!_

“I need a ride.” Libertarian said it lowly, a tone of aggression in his voice that Ancap rarely ever heard outside of the bedroom. But this time, it didn’t sound sexy nor hot, but rather filled with anger and frustration. Ancap suddenly felt weak as Libertarian said it, unsure of how to respond, unsure whether to fight or just hang up. He closed his eyes and sighed, gulping afterwards in anxiety.

“What? Why?” Ancap stammered, tripping over his own words as he slumped into a swivel chair.

“I thought somebody would be free today, but nobody is and I have no one to get me to work. If I don’t get there, I might be fired.” Libertarian said it with a shaky voice, and Ancap can already imagine him standing by a window in their apartment and staring off into the streets with anger and anguish.

“I can’t leave work just to give you a ride, Libertarian, I’m not your parent. You need to be responsible for yourself.” Ancap said it with a burst of confidence, and he knew that if April were here right now she would give him a really enthusiastic thumbs up. Libertarian grunted, and Ancap lurched at how immature this argument was about to become. Hell, they’re grown adults arguing about something a parent and a child would. 

“Ancap, _please._ You know I can’t get in an uber and your boss wouldn’t fire you anyway because having an ideological employee looks good on the employee statistics.” Libertarian was putting on his greedy capitalist voice to sway Ancap into submitting, but Ancap wouldn’t let up even though he did feel some unwanted sympathy.

Libertarian could never get an uber because of a traumatic experience he had in New York, an event that sort of changed Libertarian in a way that Ancap could not describe. There had always been something off about the rightist since, often flinching at sharp movements and sudden loud noises. He had almost been robbed— with a gun to his head as the deranged driver begged him for money, assuming he would have some just because he is a capitalist. He wasn’t wrong, though, he did; but Libertarian ended up escaping the car before he let the driver win. 

The rest of that day, Libertarian never called the police nor filed a report. Ancap was, at first, frustrated at this when he heard Libertarian say this but soon understood after a few days. Even if Libertarian was tall, intimidating and a buffoon, we was still human— and he was still scared.

“I- I can’t, I just can’t, okay? I’m known for being a slacker and I just can’t walk out to drive you somewhere. Libertarian, I’m sure if you asked Anarcha-Feminist—“ He was soon cut off.

“I did! I asked her, and she said she was busy with some _polycule._ I can’t push it because that’s weird, we’re close but not in that way. You’re my boyfriend, you owe this to me, Ancap.” Ancap nearly took offense to this. No, actually, he _did_ take offense to this. He doesn’t owe Libertarian anything just because they were in a relationship with one another. He vowed to himself that in every relationship he’s in throughout his lifetime he wouldn’t degrade himself to follow every order that he is given, and certainly was living by that rule now.

“No _!_ I don’t owe you anything, Libertarian. Nothing. Not even a dime. Don’t you dare say that to me, ever.” The tonal shift of the phone call was obvious as Ancap snapped at Libertarian. He breathed heavily, knowing that the rest of the day was _not_ going to be a good day for the two rightists as he could practically hear Libertarian blink hard.

The door opened.

“Are you okay?” The receptionist, Shelley, mouthed the words to Ancap as she stared at him with a look which made Ancap realize that _everybody in the office could hear him._

“I’m doing just fine in here, thank you.” Ancap put on a fake smile. “Can you close the door please? Thank you.” He fake laughed at the end of his sentence, almost passive-aggressively. Shelley seemed to get the jist, awkwardly smiling at him before closing the door behind her— and after she did so, Libertarian _immediately_ spoke.

“Ancap.” He said it with a low voice that sent a chill down the capitalist’s spine.

“Yes?” He said it very sheepishly, realizing that he made an argument, even if it was classified as one, deeper than it already was. He regretted what he said immensely, if he had just ignored it, Libertarian wouldn’t sound as angry as he did now.

“Who in our apartment is the breadwinner?”

“You.” Ancap gulped.

“Yes. And ever since Minarchist and Hoppean moved out, we’ve been struggling to pay rent because of your selfish spending. I know you can’t control that, that’s just you and I’m not mad at you for that; but, if you want to actually be able to live in the apartment we have in fucking _Los Angeles_ , one of the most expensive cities ever, then you give me a fucking ride.” Ancap was almost certain Libertarian had never been more serious in his life besides the time where Libertarian confessed his love for him. Libertarian’s words hit Ancap like a bullet— mostly because the moderate was _right_. If he does lose his job, the two will most likely have to move out and possibly stay with Minarchist and Hoppean for a bit up in San Francisco; which sounded… very embarrassing.

“Why are you so mean?” He muttered it out in a soft, hurt voice, which made Libertarian go deathly silent. He felt like he was about to cry, feeling emotions within him flood his body, his mind and his psyche as he felt his vision go blurry and a singular, fat tear roll down his freckled left cheek.

“Shit, Ancap, I’m so sorry. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that… I sound like an asshole. You, uh, you don’t have to give me a ride if you don’t want to—“ Ancap cut him off in a burst of stubborn obediency. 

“Fine _!_ I’ll give you a fucking ride, okay? Are you happy now, _Patrick Bateman?_ ” Ancap stammered, not allowing Libertarian to respond as he harshly hung up. His breath was shaky as he nearly burst out in sobs, the true feelings of wretchedness washing over him. He pushed his palms into the back of his neck with force, forcing him to sob out in agony— he was absolutely miserable. If anybody knew him, he hated being pitied, he hated being told what to do and he hated being treated like stock— which Libertarian did all three in the intense argument they had.

He tried to calm himself down whilst practicing the breathing exercises Queer-Anarchist taught him. Breath in for four seconds, hold for seven, and exhale for eight, making a ‘woosh’ sound. He did this over and over and _over,_ trying to compose himself enough so he didn’t look insane while leaving the break room in a hurry.

He felt a vibration in his pant pocket.

He haltered the exercises just for a moment as he pulled his phone out, the lock screen illuminating his palm as he saw the notification.

**Libertarian paid you $45.00. - Love you. Sorry - Your Venmo balance is now $678.79.**

He might just kill him.

  
  
  
  


The drive to work felt as if they were on a roadtrip to the sunrise of melancholia. The two ideologies hardly spoke a word to one another as the air around them was stiff and cold with tension. Ancap was sure there were moments where Libertarian looked as if he was about to let a few apologetic words escape his lips, but every time Ancap gave him ghastly glare which prevented him from doing so. Libertarian was scared of Ancap, to say the least, especially when he’s angry— not because of the fear of violence or emotional manipulation or anything even _close_ to that, but rather because Ancap was so _intimidating._

Ancap had to lie to his boss to be able to escape work. He had thought of many lies, such as a family emergency or a friend is in the hospital, but he finally decided on saying that he left the stove on. His boss questioned him a bit, asking why would Ancap be arguing on the phone ever so vigorously if it was something that trivial. He played it off as him being dramatic. 

The rest of that Friday, Ancap felt pathetic. The air was thick with desolation in the apartment that the two rightists shared, and the feeling of absolute defeat washed over the anarchist. 

Maybe Ancom was right. He wasn’t a real anarchist.

A real anarchist would continuously stand up for themselves in the face of authority.

A real anarchist wouldn’t submit to somebody’s wishes oh so easily.

A _real_ anarchist isn’t as pathetic as Ancap was.

He tried not to think about it. He tried to fill his mind with positive memories, memories of when him and Libertarian first started dating, memories of him and Ancom back in the 80’s and 90’s, and faint memories of his mother singing him to sleep— but none of it comforted him in the slightest. He was much too focused on the present reality, and the reality was Ancap was a whiny hog and Libertarian has revealed himself to be just some domineering statist. 

Ancap didn’t cook Libertarian and him dinner that night like he always did the nights before now. In fact, he didn’t eat at all— and the only interaction him and Libertarian had around dinner time go as is;

“Did you cook dinner, babe?”

“No. I don’t want to eat tonight.”

“You never eat.”

“If you want to eat, you cook then.”

Libertarian didn’t know how to cook.

And here he was now, laying in a cold bed in a cold room trying to force himself to sleep by reading Dostoevsky’s ‘ _Crime and Punishment,_ ’ a classic he always never could find it within himself to finish. It was a long, hard book that was extremely intimidating just by the word count alone.

He was curled in a fetal position, buried under blankets trying to keep himself warm. He knew once Libertarian got out of the bathroom he wouldn’t be any help, either— for Libertarian was a human heater and there was no _way_ they were cuddling tonight.

Sometimes, Ancap would read to Libertarian an excerpt or two from the book he was reading to lull the moderate to sleep. He was just a big baby, really— often needing help on the simplest things and not knowing how to do certain things, such as how to bake a cake; even at his old age.

Ancap heard meandering footsteps wander out of him and Libertarian’s shared bathroom, but he refused to look up and face him. He wasn’t going to allow the moderate to win and get what he wanted— sad puppy eyes that would force the two to come back in union with one another. Libertarian was simple, he only wanted two things in life, which were sex and the feeling of being wanted. Ancap was going to give him neither, or at least he _hoped_.

“Baby…” Libertarian said it in a husky voice as he lifted the blanket off the bed only slightly to make room for himself. Ancap felt wandering fingertips around his waist before he felt Libertarian pull him closer, Ancap’s back flush to Libertarian’s chest and his head right under the moderate’s chin. His breath went shaky as his voice was finally lost, not knowing what to say as he felt Libertarian’s vice grip on his waist; not letting the anarchist not move even an inch. To say he was confused was an understatement, instead, he felt defeated, solemn, and scared. Those emotions arose from less of the fact that it was Libertarian, but the fact that he was so weak that he would just allow himself to be _manhandled_ like this even after an argument so dire.

“Wh- Libertarian, what are you doing?” He meant for it to come out in a commanding and stern tone, but it only left his throat in a docile and submissive manner. It wasn’t long before he said that when Ancap felt Libertarian’s clothed dick digging into his thigh, and slowly dragged up until it was much too close to Ancap’s ass.

God, _no._ No, no, no, no, no, _no._

Ancap let out a small whimper when he felt Libertarian lightly grind against him. He _hated_ this. The whole point of being mad at Libertarian was to prove to the rightist that Ancap was an independent individual who doesn’t have to _rely_ on other people to keep him in line. To prove that he has respect for himself and had actual _standards._ But right now, his actions were proving quite the opposite.

A wandering thumb made it to Ancap’s mouth, playing with the anarchist’s bottom lip as Libertarian ground his hips against Ancap. Ancap submitted, weakly suckling on Libertarian’s thumb as Libertarian was slowly forcing Ancap back into his usual submission— putting the smaller rightist in his place.

“Be a good boy,” Libertarian lifted his head a bit to kiss Ancap’s neck. “and read for me.” Libertarian laid many kisses down Ancap’s neck, allowing Ancap to keen into the soft touch. Embarrassingly, Ancap bucked his hips back onto Libertarian’s involuntarily, his body seeking pleasure despite the war inside the anarchist’s mind.

Ancap let out a distressed whine at the command. “What?” 

“You heard me, baby. Read for me.” The thumb that previously stunted Ancap’s speech now left his face to squeeze Ancap’s supple ass before wrapping around his waist once again. Ancap felt one of Libertarian’s palms around his waist wander to palm a sensitive area, forcing Ancap to let out a short lived, high pitched moan.

“Yes sir.” Ancap said it as he was trying to find the spot where Libertarian interrupted him at.

He knew what Libertarian was doing. Libertarian felt emasculated because of the fight between him and Ancap; he wanted to take his power back. It made him feel better about himself to do this. It made him feel like a real man. It wasn’t as if Libertarian would force him to do this, he wasn’t a creep— but rather the fact that he likes to see Ancap feel small and vulnerable especially after an argument. In fact, some of the best sexual interactions they had with one another were when they were both angry, frustrated and vengeful— a close second to Ancap acting extremely subby. 

“However, it was not that he w-was totally unconscious during the whole time of his- _aah-_ illness: it was a feverish condition, with moments of d-delirium and self-aw- _aah—_ oh…” Ancap trailed off as Libertarian ground down on Ancap’s body harshly, his voice breaking ever so consistently as he read. He laid there, allowing this to happen, allowing his body to be used and allowed himself to find pleasure in it. If he was thinking clearly at all at the moment, he wouldn’t even be sleeping in the same bed as the moderate— but here he is, whining and crying as Libertarian simply dry humped him.

“Come on baby, you can do it. Why’d you stop? I wanna hear you sing.” Libertarian bucked his hips much harder than before, causing Ancap to cry out in wanton pleasure and emotional agony. “I think I’ve already charmed you enough.” Libertarian was making a reference to snake charming, but rather conflated it with riling Ancap up to the point where he was begging for it. His metaphors were stupid, but _god_ did Ancap love it.

“Please, sir, I- I can’t, it’s too hard,” Ancap mumbled it just as he felt Libertarian’s palm ground down on a familiar spot, making Ancap cry out in physical ecstasy. 

“Yeah? It’s too hard?” Libertarian said it in a breathy, mocking voice as he quickly pulled Ancap’s boxers down below his ass in a swift motion. Ancap felt his dick pop out onto the mattress as Libertarian ground against Ancap’s bare skin while touching him.

“L-Libertar _ian_ —“ Ancap moaned loudly as he felt the friction of bare skin and clothed, weirdly reminding of him when he was a virgin who used to hump pillows. Libertarian grinded into him with precision and force, mimicking all of the actions of intercourse while still fully clothed.

“You dirty whore. You like being used like this, don’t you? You stupid little boy, you fucking anarchist…” Ancap let the degradation sink into his skin, somewhat taking it to heart as he moaned in response. Maybe Libertarian was right, he thought— maybe he was just some whore. He was sitting here, allowing himself to be exploited like this and it wasn’t even for _profit._ He allowed it because he enjoyed it, because he wanted it, he wanted to be treated like this— like dirt, a toy. Maybe it was a kink, but Ancap wasn’t sure why a harmless _kink_ of all things would make him feel so shameful.

Libertarian was never like this. Normally, he would be gentle, always asking Ancap if he was okay and if he was in any pain. He would constantly praise the smaller ideology, murmuring a small ‘you’re so beautiful’ and ‘my pretty baby.’ Ancap had never heard Libertarian be so domineering and hateful during sexual intimacy, and it felt so… _awkward and foreign_. It didn’t feel real. He felt as if he was living in a false reality where Libertarian had a personality similar to Commie or Nazi, instead of the loveble himbo that he always knew. He hated that.

It was almost as if he was watching himself cinematically as he murmured the next few lines of the novel, sounding like he was about to cry as Libertarian harshly degraded him. He felt sorry for himself. He felt sorry that someone who thought they had self respect was allowing himself to be used and degraded so carelessly. In fact, he was enjoying it— and that’s what Ancap pitied the most; his own reluctant submission to authority. 

“Please fuck me sir, please god—“ Ancap felt frustrated, not being able to cum just from Libertarian’s thrusting. He bucked his hips back in time with Libertarian’s thrusts, trying to force himself over the edge but it just wasn't _working_.

“You don’t deserve it, don’t you? You know that. You’ve been so bratty today, baby..” Libertarian muttered the words into Ancap’s ears in a low tone, squeezing Ancap’s ass as if he was about to hit it— but the blow never seemed to come. 

“I promise I’ll be good for you, sir. I’ll do everything you say.” Ancap felt humiliated as he turned his head back as far as it could go to face the moderate.

“I think you’ll be just fine.” Libertarian said it with hesitation as he saw the lustful, wrecked look on Ancap’s face which tempted him. He didn’t give into the temptation, though, as he lifted one of his palms from Ancap’s waist and brought it to his hole whilst religiously touching his length.

“L-Lib— _!_ ” Ancap cried, suddenly burying his face into the pillow as he came into the sheets while Libertarian circled his hole with his thumb. Ancap hated how sensitive he was there, only cumming at the slightest touch— it was nearly embarrassing.

“Good boy.” Ancap whimpered as Libertarian nearly growled into his ear, feeling the dampness in Libertarian’s sweatpants as he continued to grind against the younger man. Ancap bit his lip, feeling Libertarian’s grip loosen around his waist. This might have been one of the most shameful things Ancap has ever done.

The moment Libertarian shifted his body onto his back, Ancap followed the same motion; snaking his body around Libertarian’s and hiding his face in the taller man’s shoulder. Normally when Ancap would do this, Libertarian would plant a kiss on his forehead and tell him how pretty he was— but to no avail.

Instead, Libertarian stayed silent; not speaking a word as he stared at the photo that hung on the wall, the photo of Ancap kissing Libertarian on the cheek while he blew out his candles at Libertarian’s 123rd birthday gathering. It was almost a mirror image of the solemn, forgetten night where Ancap drunkenly kissed Libertarian for the first time. It made the anarchist want to cry, almost— the sense of missing what they used to have reeked in his soul. 

He knew it was temporary, it had to be, but he just wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Ancap mumbled, staring up at Libertarian with wide eyes, and the visions of purple and yellow in his iris gleamed and glowed in contrast to his considerably weak aura. He had noticed just then that Libertarian’s light blue aura was weak as well, barely even showing has he stared off into space. Ancap shook, and the pain of knowing that him and his lover were in so much grief haunted his thoughts as if it was the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. 

Libertarian didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to respond.

Ancap felt smaller than he had in a while.

  
  
  
  


The next day was a Saturday; neither of the two rightists had work that day and would’ve been forced to spend the entire day together— but Libertarian thought otherwise.

The moderate left Ancap alone at around 9:07 AM. He slipped out of their shared apartment without a word, allowing Ancap to wake up cold and alone. Hell, he even used a pillow to replace himself in Ancap’s hold.

Ancap woke around an hour later, with crust forming around his eyes and drool seeping out of his agape mouth. It didn’t take him long to realize that Libertarian was long gone, nearly jumping out of bed when he noticed he was cuddling a pillow, and multiple calls of the rightist’s name which came to no avail. 

It was painful, to say the least. Ancap was nearly shaking with fear and anger as he blew up Libertarian’s cell, calling him over and over again just to hear his voice in the voicemail greeting. He cried and sobbed, each sob growing increasingly louder as each call led to nothing and each text stayed on delivered. 

He ended up calling _Commie_ of all people so he could cry to someone about his relationship issues. _‘What is it kulak, it is early,’_ was strangely one of the most comforting things the capitalist could hear at this moment. The two opposites might have spoken for two hours or even eight, Ancap wasn’t sure. But what he did know that he was crying and sobbing, muttering his hopes and his worries concerning Libertarian and Commie reluctantly comforted him out of pity. Commie was always a bit of a gentle giant when faced with someone in emotional distress, but nonetheless if that same someone pissed him off enough to anger him he would break their neck like a toothpick without hesitation or doubt that they don’t deserve it. 

Commie insisted that if things didn’t work out between him and Libertarian that the capitalist would be welcomed back home in New York. Commie, Ancom and Nazi still all lived with one another, and Commie slyly said that the apartment felt empty ever since Ancap’s departure. Ancap blushed darkly at this, remincising on the _several_ decades where him, Ancom, Commie and Nazi were in a sort of… polycule relationship where all the four extremists would do is just fuck and cuddle all day. Commie joked to Ancap, slightly mocking how the capitalist would use to call Commie ‘daddy.’ Ancap nearly fainted.

Commie had to end the call when Ancom was complaining that Commie had been talking on his phone all day and not giving quem any attention. Ancap sighed, reluctantly allowing Commie to end the call. Talking to Commie gave Ancap a sweet nostalgia that he could hardly describe, the feeling of the warm comfort of home took over him everytime he heard Commie’s thick Russian accent.

It reminded him of New York— the state he had spent 70 years of his life in, a place where he was convinced he didn’t belong, a place that had never welcomed him since his adolescence felt weirdly warming to him all of a sudden. Maybe it was because he hated the feeling of change, he thought, because there was no way in his lifetime he would ever be going back. Fuck the New York Post.

He had come to the conclusion that maybe Los Angeles, or more specifically Los Feliz, may have been a transition period in the anarchist’s life. It saddened him, though; knowing that he may truly never belong anywhere. But what he did know was that no matter where he went after his stay in Los Feliz that Libertarian would still be with him, holding him, kissing him, comforting him— Ancap knew that the moderate was never going to leave him. Maybe he would venture to Oklahoma, Arkansas, Daytona Beach, Malibu, hell, maybe even Saint-Tropez— it didn’t matter where he went and how long he stayed. He didn’t know how long he was going to live, he could live for thousands of years or maybe only a hundred.

Or maybe, he could die tommorow and he wouldn’t even know it.

Either way, he still had Libertarian. He figured that it was tough luck to be stuck with the man who throws a tantrum from somebody standing up to themselves, hell, it was four post meridiem and he _still_ hadn’t come back home.

There was a sheepish knock at the door and the clearing of a throat. 

Ancap stood corrected.

“L-Libertarian, what—“

“I am… so sorry.”

Libertarian stood there, nearly shaking as he held a box of chocolates, frozen pre-made lasagna, and a wax-sealed letter that looked straight out of the 1790’s. There was a docile look in his eyes, so fragile that if Ancap dared to scorn at him, Libertarian would fall to pieces. His eyes were glassy and his bags were dark, and he was simply only wearing a white t shirt with the same black sweatpants that he wore the night before ( _the stain seemed to be gone,_ ) with his circular reading glasses only barely holding onto his face. He looked like a mess, as if once he got out of bed he immediately left the house. It was almost endearing to the anarchist, and he knew what he was getting from this— an apology that both of the rightists knew that he deserved.

“Oh, Lib…” Ancap said it with concern rising in his voice as he rested his palm on the door frame, looking up at the moderate in front of him.

“I-I’m sorry I left. I panicked. I was just at my sister’s place. I really just needed some… _advice_ about our situation. She yelled at me, of course, for leaving without telling you but, what else was I supposed to do? Sorry, shit, I’m probably just making this worse.” Ancap could tell that Libertarian’s anxiety was growing as he spoke, worried that he would slip up and make Ancap’s anger increase.

“No, no, it’s okay. Don’t.. don’t worry about it.” Ancap looked down before looking back up. “I bet Leftlib and Marsoc tore you to pieces for what you said yesterday.” Ancap smirked as he looked up at Libertarian, referencing the fact that Leftlib and Marsoc were pretty big feminists— and how Libertarian talked to Ancap the day before would remind anybody of a 1950’s traditional husband.

“Yeah, they did.” Libertarian chuckled. “What I said to you was awful. I was acting out of anger and I was trying way too hard to find a point against you, it was stupid. I shut you out. And, also, um… if I did anything to you that made you even a little bit uncomfortable last night, I can’t express how much grief I have over that.”

“Libertarian, it’s fine—“

“-I promised myself that when we first started dating that I would never do anything to hurt you, Ancap. Ever. And, well, here I am… offering you fucking _lasagna_ and _chocolate_ at your doorstep begging for forgiveness,” Libertarian lightly laughed, forcing Ancap to smile as well. The gesture was nice, Ancap thought, staring at the frozen lasagna that Ancap just _knew_ Libertarian got at Costco.

“Oh, Lib, you didn’t have to do all this. I just wanted an apology.” Ancap said it with saddened admiration in his voice as he slipped the cold lasagna into his arms, staring it down with intent. He suddenly felt hungry.

“Nah. You deserve it. I’m an asshole.”

“If you’re an asshole, you’re not a very good one at that.” Ancap smiled up at Libertarian, using a free hand to place his hand on top of Libertarian’s, which was holding the chocolate and the letter. Libertarian blushed pink. “What’s with the letter?”

“May or may not be a declaration of my love and a more formal apology.” Libertarian smirked. Ancap softened.

“You don’t seem like the sincere type.”

“Yeah, well, Leftlib and Marsoc said bottoms eat that shit up, so.” The moderate had a shit-eating grin on his face as he said it.

“Oh, fuck off.”

For maybe an hour or so, they sat at the corner of their muddy green couch talking about their relationship. Ancap figured the reason why Libertarian got specifically lasagna out of all things— mostly because Ancap is good at cooking, but Libertarian was only good at heating up leftovers; and premade, meant to be oven-cooked lasagna was the perfect inbetween. They ate the small, squared Dove chocolates as they cuddled, murmuring sweet nothings in each other’s ears. 

They felt content, more content than they had in a while as they bathed in one another’s body heat. Ancap hoped this was forever, prayed it was forever— feeling so much continuous joy that he never wanted to end. Libertarian felt the same, holding the anarchist tight ( _but not too tight_ ) so the extremist could feel safe. Protected.

“You look like a bird.” 

“What?”

“A penguin, to be exact. Ooh, or maybe a porcupine.” Ancap teased Libertarian, looking up at him with messy hair and glazed over eyes. He looked beautiful. 

“Oh really? And you look like a snake.” Libertarian said it in rebuttal as he maintained eye contact with the anarchist in his arms.

“That’s mean.”

“And calling me a porcupine isn’t?” Libertarian said it in contrast to how messy his hair was, much more messier than Ancap’s— confirming his porcupine-esc appearance.

“Yeah. Because porcupines are cute. Snakes aren’t.”

“I meant those little baby snakes that barely wrap around your hand. The ones with huge-ass black eyes.” Ancap always resembled this creature greatly— at least in Libertarian’s point of view.

“Thanks.” Ancap smiled softly, nuzzling his face into Libertarian’s shoulder before speaking again. “I feel like Commie looks like a bear.”

“Nazi has the facial features of an eagle.”

“I disagree. He looks like a frog. A sad frog.” They both laughed.

There was a small, comfortable silence that didn’t last long.

“You really drove all the way to Beverly Hills just to talk to your sister?” Ancap asked, raising a brow at his lover in curiosity. Beverly Hills was a bit far just for advice— but Ancap should’ve expected it. Libertarian always talked to his sister in times of distress and discomfort. 

“I would talk to Anfem, but… she would have scorned me worse. So I took the long route,” Libertarian sighed. “and by taking the long route, they also gave me cookies. It was worth it.”

“How do I know you actually went there for advice and not just because they offered you cookies?” Ancap teased the moderate, unknowingly resting a hand a bit _too_ close to a sensitive spot for Libertarian. Libertarian quirked a brow at this, knowing well that Ancap’s intentions weren’t devious, but once Libertarian starts _thinking,_ he can’t stop. 

“Well, I had to get advice from _someone._ The cookies were just a nice treat with it. Besides, I’m going to need a little help if I was ever going to have sex again, so—“ Libertarian trailed off as he unwrapped one of his arms around Ancap and rested it on top of Ancap’s hand which was promiscuously close to his groin. 

“Oh, _shit—_ “ Ancap let out a breathy laugh as he realized what he had done. He was very close to swiping his hand away, until— 

“Nah, babe. Stay.” Libertarian gripped Ancap’s hand, keeping it in place as he made dead-center eye contact with the flustered anarchist, a once pink, innocent blush turning darker as he understood what Libertarian was attempting to insinuate. “A little birdy once told me that after a big fight, the only real way to make up from that is to remind you of what you’re _missing_. Catch my drift?”

“Shit, yeah, I catch your drift—“

Libertarian cut Ancap off with a rough kiss, shifting their bodies in a way where he could easily pin the anarchist down onto the cushions, sprawling the smaller ideology out for him before they left for the bedroom.

Libertarian kissed Ancap as if he was dehydrated, as if he finally found a water fountain after spending months in the center of the Sahara Desert. Ancap didn’t attempt to try and overpower this, allowing Libertarian to find liberty from their awful, depressive period. Instead, he laid there, quietly whimpering against Libertarian’s hold and letting himself to just simply relax and _feel_.

Libertarian slipped a forearm underneath the dip of Ancap’s back, doing so as if he was about to lift him from the couch— but instead, the moderate ground his groin against Ancap’s; causing the anarchist to let out small, desperate noises that would’ve brought anybody to their knees.

“Such a good boy, god—“ Libertarian mumbled his praise against Ancap’s lips as he pulled away, only a trail of saliva connecting the two ideologies. “You’re so pretty for me, baby,”

Ancap sighed as the praise sunk into his skin, relishing in Libertarian’s lustful words which he hadn’t heard in weeks. Libertarian laid wet kisses against Ancap’s jaw and his neck, taking in what he had been deprived of for weeks on end.

Before Libertarian started dating Ancap, he always thought of sex as some sort of reward; a trophy he got from being able to seduce someone he hardly has any romantic connection with. Hell, even with Demsoc it was all only about the pleasure, the reward, and the achievement of orgasm. But with Ancap, it was different— he truly loved the anarchist, and every second felt beautiful and blissful in a way he could not describe. Before, Libertarian hardly found his sexual partners even desirable in the aftermath of sex, but with Ancap— it was sight he wouldn’t trade out for anything. 

“I’ve missed this so much.” Libertarian mumbled, slipping a hand underneath Ancap’s loose t-shirt just as Ancap bucked his hips up against Libertarian’s— his hardening cock dangerously about to slip out of the anarchist’s boxers. 

“Please, sir,” Ancap mumbled it under his breath, and Libertarian looked back into his eyes with a smirk. Normally, it would take quite a while for Ancap to be _this_ submissive and desperate, but Libertarian could tell that Ancap had been penting this up for weeks now and he simply just needed release.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you?” Libertarian teased, releasing Ancap’s wrists, both of his hands now riding up Ancap’s white shirt to expose his pale midriff. 

“Mhm,” Ancap whined, suddenly gaining the confidence to spread his legs under Libertarian off just a second before wrapping them around Libertarian’s waist, keeping the moderate close and dominant, 

“God, you’re so greedy for it, baby.” Ancap yelped as Libertarian lifted him by his back and up against Libertarian’s chest, holding him piggyfront as he stood up from the couch, nearly groaning at the extra weight.

“You know, I—“

“Sh-shut up,” 

Ancap kissed him harshly, and Libertarian could just _tell_ that Ancap didn’t want to play games like they normally did— Ancap wanted something real, he wanted to feel, seal the strained connection the two ideologies had. Libertarian was more than willing to give in, immediately matching Ancap’s energy as he started directing the two blindly to their shared bedroom.

Ancap always had wet kisses. And despite only using his tongue when appropriate, it feels as if Libertarian was drowning, but not in the way where it was unenjoyable but in the way where it was nearly addicting. It felt like he was drowning in the sea of anarchy, true liberty and freedom washing over his body and crashing into his mind like a wave in a sea storm. The two truly connected in a way that Libertarian could not describe, but anyone with good perception could nearly _see_ the love together through their auras— and if you looked close enough, it was almost as if it was a blinding light. 

Libertarian gently pushed their bedroom door open with Ancap’s back, and the immediate feeling of warmth took over the rightists’ bodies as they felt the sunlight shining through an open window. They hadn’t felt warm in so long— it was nearly encapsulating.

Ancap released his legs’ grip from Libertarian’s waist, silently asking for permission to be put down. Libertarian followed suit, releasing his grip on the capitalist slowly to make sure he didn’t fall. Ancap only remained standing for only a second before sitting on his legs folded beneath his thighs, staring up at Libertarian with needy puppy-dog eyes that Libertarian nearly fainted at.

“I’ve missed this sight so much, holy fuck…” Libertarian mumbled praise as he brought a palm to Ancap’s jaw, caressing it gently as Ancap _mewled._

“I want you, sir, please,” Ancap begged as he sunk his face into Libertarian’s hold, not bold enough to admit what he truly wanted to do to the taller man.

“You gotta use your words, babe. Tell me what you want.” Libertarian massaged his thumb into Ancap’s jaw, causing the anarchist to close his eyes in relaxation before looking back up at Libertarian.

Ancap whimpered, biting his lip for only a second before weakly lifting an arm to pull down Libertarian’s sweatpants. Libertarian gawked at how desperate Ancap looked for it, pulling his sweatpants down slowly before they pooled down onto his ankles on their own. Ancap rested a hand on Libertarian’s groin, palming himself lightly through his boxers causing the moderate to let out a shaky breath. 

“C-can I?” 

“Can you what?”

“Oh, don’t make me say it.” Ancap whined, toying at the hem of Libertarian’s boxers in embarrassment.

“I don’t think you realize how cute you are.” Libertarian chuckled as he let go of Ancap’s face to run a hand through the anarchist’s cherub curls. Ancap’s toes curled and he sighed at the praise, and in a burst of confidence, pulled down Libertarian’s boxers enough to let his cock spring out. Libertarian shivered at the sudden air as he heard Ancap whimper at the sight.

Ancap missed this. The feeling of being on his knees, the feeling of intimacy, and the feeling of warmness surrounded him like a blanket; comforting the smaller ideology as he shakily took a grip on Libertarian’s cock. He kitten licked the tip, teasing the moderate by toying the head with the tip of his tongue.

Libertarian gripped Ancap’s hair harder, edging him enough to submit and stop teasing. Ancap relented, finally licking a stripe on the underside of Libertarian’s cock, maintaining lustful eye contact with the man in front of him. He lapped up the tip with fast and quick strokes of his tongue, allowing Libertarian to let out an embarrassing moan just as Ancap took him into his mouth.

“Didn’t know you were so hungry, jesus,” Libertarian muttered in awe as he witnessed Ancap take him whole, slowly dragging his head down Libertarian’s cock until he reached the base, nearly choking. If this was the first time he had ever done this, his gag reflex would have been stimulated enough for him to throw up. Libertarian knew this, and was silently proud of the work he had done on the anarchist’s throat over only the past few months.

Ancap’s legs were shaking as he pulled his head back, hollowing his cheeks around Libertarian as the moderate gripped his hair. Ancap was palming himself through his boxers, a wet spot growing in the fabric. Libertarian noticed this, but said nothing, deciding to wait until Ancap was desperate and destroyed enough to take the chance of fucking his face.

Ancap whined as he popped off of Libertarian’s cock, and almost immediately started stroking it at a fast pace. Libertarian shook, quickly realizing that Ancap’s length had already slipped out of his boxers, and that Ancap was jerking Libertarian off at the same pace he was to himself. He looked so needy, desperate, and almost whore-ish as he did it, his face contorting in sick pleasure as Libertarian furrowed a brow at the smaller man.

“You’re so desperate for it aren’t you, pretty boy? Can’t even keep your mouth on my cock because you’re too focused on yourself.” Libertarian called Ancap out in a way that was hot and humiliating, and his words forced Ancap to look back up at Libertarian.

“I-I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t apologize. How about I make this easier, huh? You’d like that?” 

“Yes sir,— _haah!_ ”

Libertarian nearly _shoved_ his cock into Ancap’s mouth the moment he parted his lips again, causing the anarchist to moan loudly on his cock. Shockwaves of pleasure filled Libertarian’s mind, body, and soul as he shallowly fucked Ancap’s face while the capitalist weakly pleasured himself to being used. 

“You take it so pretty for me baby,” Ancap stared up at Libertarian with a tear-streaked face, the praise only adding to the anarchist’s pleasure as spurts of precum dripped down his length. Ancap desperately bucked his hips into the ground, grinding his cock against the hardwood floor, desperate for any friction he could get. 

He sat there, a mix of humiliation and arousal boiling in his core as he took in Libertarian’s numerous remarks about him fucking the _floor,_ weeping and twitching like there was no tomorrow.

“So good for me, god,” Libertarian’s thrusts became slow and deep, reaching down Ancap’s throat as Libertarian massaged a thumb into Ancap’s cheek, feeling himself fucking the anarchist. “You would take it all day, wouldn’t you? I could just walk up to you all of a sudden and grab you by the hair and you would still take it,” 

A muffled moan was all Ancap could muster in response, choking as Libertarian thrusted into his mouth over and over and _over._

“God, _fuck—“_ Libertarian’s thrusts went shallow again as he felt Ancap swallow the precum leaking out of him, intense amounts of pleasure wracking his brain. The feelings only intensified when he looked down at Ancap, who had just came on the hardwood floor. Libertarian looked down at him in awe and excitement, eager to overstimulate Ancap— it was a particular kink of his that he could never let go.

Ancap’s jaw quivered as he moaned quietly around Libertarian’s cock, trying his best to stare back up at Libertarian but his weakness took over him— fluttering his eyes shut as Libertarian guided his head. He relished in the feeling of gratification knowing how good he made Libertarian feel, and he was almost sure that desire stemmed from his need to be a people-pleaser. 

Libertarian pulled out suddenly, leaving Ancap quietly gasping for air as Libertarian pleasured himself at the sight of Ancap whimpering on his knees. The ideology looked utterly destroyed, staring up at Libertarian with a tear stained face and glassy eyes. Libertarian gawked at the sight below him, his strokes slowing as he savored the sweet noises that Ancap let slip out of his throat. 

Ancap slipped out his tongue as Libertarian came, long spurts of ejaculate coating the anarchist’s face and tongue. He moaned as he felt it land, having not felt this kind of ecstasy in a few weeks, and _god_ was it good to be back.

“You’re so pretty, baby. God, take it all.” Libertarian said it as he finished, watching Ancap swallow what had landed on his tongue. He brought his thumb down to Ancap’s left cheek, swiping some of his ejaculate, and hooking the thumb into Ancap’s mouth, watching as the anarchist immediately latched onto his thumb, sucking obediently. Libertarian was floored; watching as Ancap smiled around his thumb, riling up the moderate in a way where Libertarian would want to throw him harshly onto the bed and fuck him without prep. 

“You wanna fuck me, sir? You wanna overstim me until I cry?” Ancap’s voice was high and desperate, and normally Ancap wouldn’t be this bold during intimate scenes like this, but hell, he hadn’t done this in so long that he was so eager and needy to be pleased that shame was thrown out the window.

“I think you’re going to be overstimming me just as much as I’m overstimming you.” Libertarian chuckled as he watched Ancap struggle only slightly as he stood up, backing himself up for a second or two before plopping down onto the bed.

“You better be up for round two then,” Ancap’s voice was breathy and shaky, shifting back onto the bed until he hit the wall. He spread his legs invitingly, riding up his cotton, blue stripe boxers that only made the ideology look more innocent than he seemed. He looked adorable as he placed a palm on his cock which had slipped out beforehand, whimpering as he stared at Libertarian gawking. “Sir.”

“You’re so hot, babe, jeez.” Libertarian stared at the anarchist for a moment, who was teasing at his own cock. He bit his lip before taking a step forward and out of the pooling sweatpants, opening and reaching into the drawer to grab lube and a condom before Ancap stopped him.

“We don’t need a condom,” 

“Why’s that?”

“I wanna feel you. I wanna be messy.”

“Yessir.” Libertarian did it in mockery, but Ancap was too worked up to roll his eyes or make a remark back. He grabbed the lube, promptly closing the drawer as he practically hopped onto the bed. He shifted back to sit adjacent to Ancap, the anarchist being comically shorter than him while sitting down. 

“Can I touch you?” Libertarian asked, awkwardly sheepish before Ancap’s eyes went half-lidded, pulling the moderate in for a deep kiss. Libertarian’s arms wrapped around Ancap’s waist, pulling him ever so closer as he set the lube down in between them. He reached down to Ancap’s cock, circling his thumb against the anarchist’s tip. Ancap bucked his hips up in surprise, moaning into the kiss as Libertarian made sure with his other hand that Ancap stayed still.

“Libertarian,” Ancap mumbled, breaking the kiss as he felt Libertarian attempt at pulling down his boxers, which he was struggling at. Ancap lifted his hips slightly, giving Libertarian better access as he pulled the boxers down Ancap’s thigh, allowing the anarchist to kick them off his calves and onto the floor. 

“You’re beautiful, holy shit—“ Libertarian muttered in awe as he removed his back from the wall, shifting his body forward to get a better view. 

“Do.. do you want me to?” 

“Yeah, that would be good.”

Ancap turned his body 90 degrees, now facing Libertarian as he shifted back so he could lay himself down. The position was awkward, as he was laying his head at the end of the bed instead of the pillow. Nonetheless, he ignored it, staring up at the blank ceiling as he spread his legs for Libertarian. God, he could just _hear_ the moderate gawk.

“Don’t just stare,” Ancap whined, furrowing his brows in frustration. Libertarian found Ancap’s neediness cute in a way that he couldn’t describe— it was either that, or the idea of somebody practically begging to get fucked by the center-rightist simply just fed into his ego.

“Oh, c’mon babe, you’re ruining my view!” Libertarian teased, making Ancap roll his eyes at the comment. He popped open the bottle of lube that laid next to him, drizzling a few spurts onto his finger before closing the bottle. The snap of the bottle closing made Ancap shiver just as much as the feeling of the mattress shifting below him as Libertarian positioned himself between the anarchist’s thighs. 

“Be a good boy, now.” Libertarian muttered, a strong grip forming on one of Ancap’s thighs as he circled the capitalist’s hole. Ancap whimpered, his calves tightening at the tease, waiting patiently for Libertarian to slip in.

Libertarian smirked. “You still have cum on your face.”

Ancap rolled his eyes. “No shit, sherlock.”

Libertarian slipped his finger in down to the base, surprising Ancap. The anarchist’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline as he slapped a palm over his mouth to suppress a quite embarrassing moan for just one finger. 

“So sensitive, baby. Are you sure you can take my cock?” Libertarian sounded egotistical, but Ancap weirdly loved it. He secretly liked it when Libertarian spoke during intimacy, his little murmurs of praise, his teasing, his degrading— Ancap loved all of it.

“Yes, sir.” Ancap mumbled, removing the palm from his mouth considering that he knew _well_ that Libertarian loved it when he was loud.

“We’ll see about that.” Libertarian warned, slipping most of his finger out, leaving only the distal phalanx inside. Before Ancap could complain, Libertarian slipped back in, curling the finger up. Ancap nearly kicked his legs into the air as he let out a moan that tapered off into a whine, feeling the Libertarian’s finger slip in and out of him for the first time in weeks.

“Look at you, taking it like a good boy,” Libertarian praised, and everytime he slipped his finger back in it would curl up in certain areas, trying to find the sweet spot _just_ so he could curl in only next to it to tease the anarchist. “I haven’t seen you like this in so long, fuck, baby.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ancap mumbled under his breath, the words hidden with a moan as he felt the moderate slip in another lubed finger. The pace of Libertarian’s thrusts slowly started to gain traction as Ancap gripped the sheets. “Sir.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby.” Libertarian’s fingers suddenly curled up into Ancap’s prostate, allowing the anarchist to slip out a long, drawn out moan. “You know I can wait.” Libertarian winked, and he was most likely referencing the fact that he could finger Ancap harshly for _hours,_ which they have done a couple times to the point where Ancap was barely even conscious. 

“Not tonight,” Ancap pleaded. “I wanna feel you.” Libertarian raised a brow at the confession.

“Yeah, you wanna feel me baby?” Libertarian suddenly took his finger almost all the the way out before slamming them back in with a third finger, causing Ancap to let out a shrill scream into the sheets. Libertarian kept this pace, roughly thrusting his finger in and out while moving them in a circular motion, opening Ancap up in a way where it was nearly destroying him. 

Ancap felt as if Libertarian was adding more fingers too fast, forcing the anarchist open in a way that his body wasn’t used to. He would’ve told Libertarian to slow down and go back to only one, but he didn’t; the idea of his body being forced open so suddenly and fast as a form of punishment for not letting Libertarian inside for so long sounded so hot to the anarchist. 

It was comparable to an imperial conquest, he thought. Ancap giving up the emotional battle between the two with sweet convincing, finally allowing Libertarian to rule over his body harshly. And here he was, doing just that— three fingers thrusting in and out of him at a rapid pace as Libertarian wraps a hand around Ancap’s cock. He was scream-sobbing in pleasure, hiding his face in the pillow as each rough, tattered sob pattered out of him everytime Libertarian hit a sweet spot. 

“Yeah, you like that baby? You like getting destroyed on my fingers?” The tease was weirdly degrading has he gripped the sheets in pleasure, wantonly moaning in overstimulation.

“Yes- _aah -_ sir _!_ ” Ancap cried out, trying to focus his energy into gripping the sheets below him.

“Look at you, finally being good for me. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.” Libertarian suddenly curled his fingers up against Ancap’s prostate— forcing a hoarse moan out of the boy below him. “The other ideologies have no idea what they’re missing out on, holy shit.” 

“They d-don’t have to miss out,” Ancap muttered in between breaths, not realizing what he had just said until after he said it. His cheeks became more red than they were at the realization, seeing Libertarian smirk darkly.

“You wanna take it over and over again, and go sleep around like the little anarchist you are? Is that what you want, pretty boy?” It did sound nice, to be frank.

“Yes, sir- _aah-_ please, please fuck me sir,” Ancap cried, his toes curling in at the intense pleasure.

“That’s what you want, baby?” Libertarian kept going, and Ancap lifted his head up at him in frustration before taking both of his hands to grab at Libertarian’s wrist, haltering the moderate’s movement. He let out a few desperate whines at the stillness, attempting to regain comprehension.

“I told you to fuck me.” Ancap said bluntly. “So do it.” 

“So you’re the one making orders now? What stops me from taking you apart on my fingers for hours?”

Ancap lifted his back off the sheets, sitting up and facing Libertarian head on. “If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to murder you, Libertarian.” 

“You’re hurting my feelings, babe. You’re being so mean.” Libertarian smirked in a way that only made Ancap’s frustration worse. He knew how to get his way, though:

“Please, sir. Shut me up and make me take it. Make me be your good little boy.” Ancap said it with puppy dog eyes, his cheeks flush with a light shade of pink as Libertarian noticed the slowly drying cum on Ancap’s nose bridge and forehead. 

He couldn’t resist. 

Libertarian pushed Ancap back down onto the bed, immediately attacking his neck with kisses. Ancap whimpered as he listened to Libertarian whisper sweet nothings as he slowly trailed down Ancap’s body with wet kisses and verbal love. He stopped once he reached the capitalist’s navel, sitting back up like he was before. 

“My pretty baby, god, always so desperate for it, aren’t you?” Libertarian praised, taking hold of the lube beside the two. He flicked the bottle open, drizzling a good amount on his hands before throwing the semi-closed bottle aside as he coated himself in front of Ancap, who was biting his lips in anticipation.

“You ready?” Libertarian asked, both of his hands taking hold of the undersides of Ancap’s thighs, lifting his legs into the air to have a better angle. He lined himself up, looking at Ancap dead in the eye as the anarchist paused for just a second before frantically nodding his head yes.

Libertarian pushed in, inciting a loud, drawn out moan from the anarchist below him. He delved deeper until he was down to the hilt, bottoming out inside of the capitalist. Ancap twitched like a live wire, and Libertarian was unsure if Ancap could handle it after being used to living without it for so long. Little whines, whimpers and heavy breaths escaped Ancap as Libertarian stilled— the moderate wanted to wait until Ancap was comfortable enough to move.

“You’re… too big,” Ancap whined, gripping the sheets as distraction.

“Now that’s a complaint I rarely hear,” Libertarian joked, causing Ancap to chuckle as well despite it quickly turning into a whine. 

“Move.”

“You just said it was too big?” Libertarian smirked.

“I don’t care. Make me hurt.”

“I didn’t know you were into pain-“

“-I said, make me hurt.” 

“Are you sure?”

Ancap looked Libertarian dead in the eye. “Please fill me up until I can’t breathe, sir.” 

Now, _that’s_ what did it. 

Libertarian quickly pulled out before slamming back in, causing Ancap to cry out in either agony or intense pleasure— most likely a mix of both. Libertarian stared at Ancap’s contorted face, watching how he whimpers, twitches and cries. He loved that sight, thinking Ancap looked picture perfect before slamming into him again, and again, _again._

“I’ve needed this so much,” Libertarian said in a low tone as he fucked into Ancap, loud ‘ _ah ah ah_ ’s coming from him.

Ancap’s mind swirled with pleasure, and the feeling of finally being full again after weeks of emptiness was a kind of ecstasy that the anarchist couldn’t describe. He needed this, god, he’s _been_ needing this since the beginning. He realized pushing Libertarian away wasn’t going to solve any of his emotional problems, instead, it made them worse— driving a wall between the two rightist that could only be mended with sex and overdue apologies. Ancap laid there, allowing himself to be used by Libertarian, letting himself be an outlet and pleasure and frustration since he had deprived the moderate for weeks. But for Ancap, the simple idea of giving Libertarian what he wanted, fulfilling his fantasies and seeing him happy is what made Ancap happy— nothing else did. He wanted to see Libertarian happy after weeks of melancholia residing within the two, and he sure as hell got what he wanted.

“My sweet boy, god, I love you so much.” Libertarian set down Ancap’s thighs, allowing Ancap to keep them spread on his own. The center-rightist bowed down to the point where his and Ancap’s chests were flush against one another, giving Ancap soft kisses on his jaw and neck.

“Please say that again,” Ancap muttered, saying it reluctantly in case of harsh reaction.

“Oh, babe,” Libertarian shifted up a bit to kiss Ancap. Ancap melted into him, their tears melding together as they did so.

Libertarian was still thrusting into him, but softer, and going against Ancap’s wishes of trying to hurt him. He nearly fainted when he felt the vibrations of Ancap’s pretty moans as they kissed, reluctantly pulling away to fulfill the capitalist’s request.

“I love you so much.” Libertarian whispered it against Ancap’s Grecian nose, kissing the tip with a peck. “Don’t ever forget that,” 

“I love you too, I love you, I love y _ou—_ “ Ancap’s slurred words of affection tapered off into high pitched moans as he felt Libertarian hit his prostate with wicked precision, hitting it dead on each time. Tears erupted once again, falling down his face as he stared up at Libertarian, who maintained eye contact with the anarchist.

“You’re so pretty when you cry.” Libertarian kissed him again, cupping Ancap’s heart shaped face as they made love. There was blood, cum, and spurts of lube on the floor and the sheets, the sunlight illuminating them from the white window and the smell of lavender room spray that comforted Ancap in a way that he could not describe. He had never felt more safe in his life than he did now, laying here, kissing his boyfriend while he cried— it felt almost beautiful.

He never wanted this moment to end. If his life was a film, he would pause it right here and keep it on the screen, a neverending moment of ecstasy on display for the world to see.

Fucking Libertarian was like a drug, it was almost as if all of the problems in the world had gone away, slipped from Ancap’s mind the moment he felt his touch. He knew that maybe things won’t get better after this, that he would still be sad _(temporarily,)_ until the election was over, or maybe that sadness would deepen after it was. Whatever the answer to that question was, he didn’t want to dwell on it, he wanted to focus on what he had here, right now splayed in front of him.

This was better.

He was better.

**Author's Note:**

> i cant believe i constructed natal charts for these rightists . libertarians makes too much sense and it’s literally terrifying .... the many taurus placements .... the scorpio sun..... the gemini moon.... THE LEO RISING....... a monster among men
> 
> tell me if it sucked.


End file.
